


a prepared mind

by charcoalsuns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalsuns/pseuds/charcoalsuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daichi, during the end of the Wakunan match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a prepared mind

**Author's Note:**

> In reaction to episode 18 and allusion to chapter 149 (A Chemical Reaction of Encounters).
> 
> _(“I was watching from around the 20 point mark.”)_

  


“All right,” the nurse says, like she finally believes him when he says he isn’t in pain anymore, he’s good to go, really rested, really. “You can go.”

“Thank you,” Daichi says, standing right away. However quick, however lopsided, his smile is a real one. He bows gratefully and maneuvers himself around chairs and counters, out the door with Yachi just a few steps behind him. 

The _tick-tick-tick_ of the clock on the infirmary wall gives way to the sound of his feet, pounding evenly down the empty corridor. His muscles are warm, loose, ready. The still air is dry in his throat. It whooshes past his ears and around his sides, passing under the unzipped edges of his jacket. 

Directly across the gymnasium lobby, the doors fold to either side of the center entrance, beckoning like an open hand. Shouts and cheers and chants overlap in a rumble from within, irregular and alive. He runs. He does not know what they are reacting to. 

They must be on their third set, by now. Nearing the end of the match. 

Daichi’s hand is fast on the handle of the door as he looks around its frame, for a moment between rallies, a moment when he can return. 

Nishinoya is off the court, is the first thing he sees, bright orange leaping before Narita’s steady figure, up and—

Down, the ball shoots, around Tsukishima’s block, and it’s going to hit the ground right in front of—

Tanaka lunges forward, and the ball curves back up, above—

Kageyama’s hands are up, every ounce of concentration in his body radiating outward as he makes—

The toss could go anywhere; even Daichi, watching for the first time since first year, cannot tell who it will be as they all run up to attack, but—

_Asahi_ , he thinks, as he approaches the left side of the net, strong and sure as a promise; _slam it down_. 

Kageyama tosses to the right. 

Ennoshita is in the air, too, at the end of the court furthest away from where Daichi stands, and his spike angles off the outstretched arm of Wakunan’s captain, spinning out of bounds on the other side. 

_WAKUNAN: 19_  
**_KARASUNO: 21_ **

Daichi watches the score flip, one more point toward the next. Something stirs in his ribcage, tightens a split-second grip on his heart, sinks new claws into his throat. For an instant, it’s hard to breathe. 

It’s their point: Tanaka is yelling Ennoshita’s name, Hinata stepping behind the baseline, getting ready to serve, Yamaguchi calling out to him from the side. Suga and Kinoshita are adding their shouts of encouragement to the wave of noise cresting through the gymnasium, and now, between points, is when Daichi should run to join them, just in time for the last rallies of the match.

He stays in the doorway. He shifts his weight, so he is no longer leaning on his front foot. His breath resumes its normal rhythm as he watches them – his team, and it isn’t at all that he expected them to fall apart without him, but they are standing together, fighting with what they have fought for, and none of them are looking back. 

Like a bolt from the white lights and steel rafters high above him, Daichi realizes that his end isn’t _the end_. Months ago, Suga had said that from off the court, he could see everything open before him; in Daichi’s moment of clarity, a shadow remains, placed out of sight behind his breastbone and clenching as he understands, truly, for the first time: 

This is his last year. 

Months ago, he had thought he knew it, thought he could heed it and leave the club behind, like Kurokawa, and Tashiro before him. And when he made his decision to stay, he had thought only to run and plan and gather and train, to continue what they started, back in their first year, to keep his feet forward and keep moving, on and on and—

“Sawamura-san?” Yachi peeks around his shoulder, at his side, just a step behind. Her voice is soft and clear. 

Daichi does not look away from the court, where Asahi is slamming the ball through two of Wakunan’s blockers, where Ukai is clapping his hands together, just once, before clasping them in thought again. “It’s all right,” he says. _They’ll be all right_. He smiles, and he cannot feel the bruise. 

They still have further to go, all of them. Past this match, and the next, and the next, and past those in Tokyo, after.

This is the year they will get to the national tournament.

Daichi will be standing there, knees bent, sweat dripping down his back, Asahi just a reach, a hand slap away. Suga will be ready, observing and shouting, watching for their chances; Shimizu will hold her record book close against her lap, her pencil quick, not missing a single play. And just as they are now, so will stand every one of their teammates, stronger than they were yesterday, climbing up those endless stairs, faces turned upward in the direction they have found together. 

It’s their match point. 

Nishinoya dives for the ball as it tips over the net. At the center, Hinata jumps; mid-set, Kageyama reacts, but Daichi can see, Hinata’s jump isn’t high enough to reach the toss; he falters, and the ball sails over, a chance—

Ennoshita yells, and it is not a command, but a reminder; he is watching, too. Next to Asahi, he holds his arms out, ready for the receive, and as Ukai and Takeda smile, wordlessly, for the moment, as all of them steady themselves, what was once only the beginning of an impression in Daichi’s thoughts is a solid, tenable future. 

_Full of promise_ , he’d said, during a lunch break on a day that hung, contemplative and heavy, at the beginning of summer. Wakunan’s captain hits his spike off the space between Hinata and Kageyama’s arms, far over Tanaka’s head, another block out – but Ennoshita is jumping up to meet the ball, twisting in midair to push it back with his entire body, sending it right above Kageyama’s hands. As he lands, a brief, inventive part of Daichi thinks, _there are ashes at his feet_. 

Hinata’s spike blazes down the center. 

When they win, while they line up, Daichi steps back from the doorway, pride burning warm in his chest. He answers Yachi’s beaming smile with a grin of his own. 

The rest of the team will come out to the lobby in a short while. They will need to rest before their next match, and they should get up to the stands as soon as they cool down and stretch. His mind clear, Daichi walks over to meet them.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I had a rush of feelings while watching the episode, and on the Karasuno side of them (apart from being in awe and tears at Ennoshita's everything), I was struck by the prolonged shot of Daichi, standing in the doorway to the gymnasium as he says ‘I thought I'd actually destroy your rhythm if I came back out then,’ with that sort-of-but-not-really smile sort of quiet realization sort of... something... in his face. I couldn't put a word to it, but I wondered what he was thinking and remembered that chapter 149 takes place later on the same day and. this happened. 
> 
> Also influencing this: the image of Ennoshita's last jump receive bringing him up in front of the 飛 on Karasuno's banner (I'm still emotional about it), and what the sight of that play and those around it could have meant from Daichi's perspective.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
